something false and finite

One of the great blessings of writing and journaling is being able to look back over life and remember and reflect. I just spent a little bit of time looking through some of my past blog posts, and I was reminded of some things. I was reminded of joys and sorrows and hopes and fears and experiences and thoughts. It was a good reminder. We tend to forget a lot. At least I do. I mean, I have a stellar (almost freakish) memory most of the time. But, I heard someone, somewhere say that our problem is that we remember the things we should forget and forget the things we should remember. We remember how many times we have failed or others have failed us, but we forget God's forever faithfulness.
I will be completely honest in admitting that I have been in a state of forgetting. I have been forgetting how good God is. I have been forgetting the unbelievable things He has done in and through me. I have been forgetting about where He has taken me from and where He is bringing me to. I have been forgetting about the joy that waits anew each morning.
But, after taking a few moments to look back, I am remembering again. I am remembering those darn Israelites. Talk about forgetful. God delivered them from the Egyptians, and even gave them all the Egyptian's gold and valuables. God parted a SEA(!) for them to walk across on dry land. He gave them manna from Heaven. He made pure water come forth from a rock. He brought quail to them (both low to the ground and out of season). He provided them with indestructible tunics and sandals. He promised them a land flowing with milk and honey. But, they forgot. They grumbled and complained and cashed in their promised future for something false and finite.
Oh, how sometimes I want to cash in for something false and finite.
The problem is that I know it is false and finite, and so I can't do it. I have searched for ways to justify it. I have argued every possible angle. I have painted elaborate pictures of Egypt, leaving out all the things it lacked. I have wanted to settle, to flop down right where I am at and say, "this is good enough." I have seen what appears to be greener grass on the other side of the fence and caught myself trying to swing my leg over to that side.
Sometimes false and finite things are so pretty and shiny and easy-looking.
And so, it is good for me to remember that things aren't always what they seem, that "good enough" is never enough, that God's faithfulness has no measure, that love covers a multitude of sins, that I cannot go back but can go forward, that pain is hard and real and does not need to be excused, that the future is bright and hopeful and true, that joy is chosen and embraced. I am thankful for writing and remembering because while I live in the false and finite, I live for the True and Infinite.

saying good-bye

Typically, I am not a fan of saying good-bye. I prefer "see ya later"s or "talk to you soon"s. And, in leaving America a few days ago, I was certainly feeling the heartache of saying good-bye to so many people that I love, so many people that I miss terribly. Such a bittersweet feeling.

But, this is about a different good-bye. Six days ago I, along with the rest of the world, said good-bye to 2011. While I will admit that it was quite a whirlwind that I can hardly believe went so quickly, I was not sad to say good-bye. I would consider myself to be quite a positive, optimistic, joyful person, and thus, I acknowledge that the goods of 2011 outweighed the bads. However, 2011 was not the best year I have ever had by any means. There was much chaos and confusion and frustration and transition and grief and unknown. But, I am confident that I came out of it with a lot more character than I went into it with.

2011, thanks for the lessons, and I happily bid you farewell.
2012, I am welcoming you with open arms and an open heart. I am confident that you are going to be good in ways I cannot yet see.

Here's to saying good-bye and moving forward with hope!

every minute

I am long on staying. I am slow to leave, especially when it comes to you, my friend. You have taught me to slow down and to prop up my feet. It's the fine art of being who I am. And I can't figure out why you want me around. I'm not the smartest person I have ever met, but somehow that doesn't matter, no, it never really mattered to you at all. And at the risk of wearing out my welcome, at the risk of self discovery, I'll take every moment and every minute that you'll give me.

I like relationships. Deep ones. In the past couple months, I have been incredibly thankful for the amazing people in my life. I am thankful for friends with whom I can kick off my shoes and stay awhile, friends with whom I can be completely me, friends with whom I can cry both tears of joy and tears of pain, friends with whom I know the welcome will never wear out, friends with whom I can further discover myself.

And I can think of a time when families all lived together, four generations in one house, and the table was full of good food and friends and neighbors. That's not how we like it now. 'Cause if you sit at home you're a loser. Couldn't you find anything better to do? Well, no, I couldn't think of one thing I would rather waste my time on that sitting here with you. And at the risk of wearing out my welcome, at the risk of self discovery, I'll take every moment and every minute that you'll give me.

I am confident that I would qualify as a "loser" if the requirements were that you sit at home without anything better to do. Fortunately for me, I quite enjoy being that "loser." I am incredibly thankful for my family, for my friends, for tables full of good food and rooms filled with laughter and joy. No, there is nothing I would rather waste my time on.

And I wish all the people I love the most could gather in one place and know each other and love each other well. And I wish we could all go camping and lay beneath the stars and have nothing to do and stories to tell. We'd sit around the campfire and we'd make each other laugh remembering when. You're the first one I'm inviting, always know that you're invited, my friend. And at the risk of wearing out my welcome, at the risk of self discovery, I'll take every moment and every minute that you'll give me...

There are people I love from all corners of the globe, and I earnestly desire that all the people I love would be able to gather in one place. No matter where I am, I am always missing someone. However, I think this has made me appreciate, cherish even, every minute that I am able to spend with people. I am thankful for whatever time I am given with them. Sometimes it just isn't enough, but I am thankful just the same and hopeful that there will be more cherished moments. You're always invited, my friend...

"Every Minute" by Sara Groves

*sigh*

I don't really have a good title for this post. I am not sure what it is really about except for the surprising ways beauty sometimes sneaks in and overwhelms us.
I lived in Indiana for the first 23 and a half years of my life. And, I am still convinced that some of the best sunsets in the world have been seen standing next to the big red barn in my parents' backyard. Reds and yellows, oranges and purples, pinks and blues. Absolutely breathtaking. I am not sure what those sunsets really represent in my life, but I do know that they continually remind me that the beauty of God transcends all time and space. I know that sometimes beauty is so overwhelming that it makes you rush out the back door wearing mismatched flip flops and no coat, despite the frigid temperatures. It makes you grab your camera in a vain attempt to capture the brilliance of color that cannot be contained. It makes you shiver in the cold and silence just to enjoy the secret that lasts but a few moments. *sigh*
And, then, the snow. I am not a lover of snow. It is cold. It is not fun to drive in. It melts and gets slushy. It gets dirty from exhaust and mud and becomes ugly. But, I cannot deny the wonder of a silent snowfall. I cannot deny the awe that comes when I climbed into bed knowing that it was brown and dead outside only to arise to a powdery, white world. Snow and I get along pretty well if out interactions take place in the manner that the above photo was taken--looking out the window with a hot cup of coffee or tea in hand. It is unfortunate when the beauty is spoiled with the mud and the dirt and the busyness of life. *sigh*

Sometimes I think beauty is meant to surprise us. Sometimes it only lasts a few moments before it is spoiled. The sunset is only really beautiful for a few minutes before it disappears. The snow is only stunning until the cars drive through and the flakes begin to melt. However, their beauty remains the same, whether I can see it or not, whether I appreciate it or not. I suppose that is reason enough to store up the beautiful things in the recesses of my heart, so I can pull them out after the sun sets and the snow melts. *sigh*

books!

I may have an obsession. It is certainly a weakness. It could be a personality flaw.
I love books. A lot.
I can't seem to help myself.
I love the scent of libraries. Used bookstores give me thrills. I like turning pages. I get lost in novels. I hunger to learn about the lives and experiences of others.
Generally, I would not consider this a problem, regardless of what others may think.
However, I am not sure this pile of books (along with my brand new Kindle!) are going to manage to fit in the limited suitcase space available to me. As I started adding up the books I got used, received as gifts, or purchased for the classes I will be starting in January, I was a bit overwhelmed. I had hoped that receiving the Kindle as a gift would help curb my need for physical books. I am still hopeful that it will, but for now I am stuck deliberating between shoes or novels, jeans or nonfiction, hair gel or classics.

a lot of talk

"For the Kingdom of God is not just a lot of talk; it is living by God's power." 1 Corinthians 4:20

Oh, those verses that just stop you in your tracks. This verse was one of those the other day. I was reading along, and all of a sudden, Wham! That is absolutely right. The Kingdom of God is not just a bunch of talk, but we make it that way sometimes. We learn all the right answers. We can regurgitate them at all the right moments. We can tell people who are having a rough time to "just have a little faith" or "God won't give you any more than you can handle." We can talk about how all the world is filled with sunshine and roses...but it's not.
The world is not all as it should be. There is ugliness and darkness and pain. Life is hard, and it hurts sometimes. Things happen that we don't have any way of explaining. There isn't enough "talk" to make these things right. There isn't enough "talk" to bring comfort to the hurting. There isn't enough "talk" to answer the million questions that race through our minds.
But, there is still a Kingdom with an almighty King sitting on the throne. God's power is greater than our questions, our pain, our struggles. Living in God's power is what it is about, and living in that power is the only way to bring even a glimpse of the Kingdom of God to this earth...

inconvenient

death can be so inconvenient
you try to live and love
it comes and interrupts

Death interrupted just over a month ago. My beloved Grandpa passed away. I wasn't expecting it. No one was. I think I thought he could never die. And, really, he didn't. He just moved on. And it happened exactly how he would have wanted it to...working on his farm, with his hogs.

He worked harder than anyone I have ever met.
He was tough as nails (though you may not know it from the pink hat and giant shades).
He was full of wisdom and life and knowledge and love.
He is what legacies are made of.
And, he was mine for the last 25 years.
Inconvenient, yes. Blessed beyond words, absolutely.